


WHAT Happened in Vegas?!

by ApexOnHigh



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, Las Vegas Wedding, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 07:40:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8969992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApexOnHigh/pseuds/ApexOnHigh
Summary: John wakes up with a killer hangover and no memory of the night before.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sidewinder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidewinder/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [sidewinder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidewinder/pseuds/sidewinder) in the [SVUWinterFicFest2016](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SVUWinterFicFest2016) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Characters/ship: John Munch/Odafin Tutuola
> 
> Genre: m/m slash/humor
> 
> Prompt: Waking up married with no memory of how they ended up that way. Then again, drunken things tend to happen at police conventions, especially when those conventions take place in Las Vegas.

John Munch woke up to the worst hangover he could remember in all sixty-three years of his life on Earth.

Worse than the morning after his retirement party.

Worse than when he'd found out Lennie Briscoe had slept with his ex-wife, Gwen.

Worse than that fateful time Fin had rescued him from the bar after a particularly rough case, dragged his drunken ass home, and finally kissed and fucked him senseless after years of wishing the man would do just that.

He groaned and tried to bury his throbbing head under the covers, cursing the intrusive light streaming into the room. Beside him, he felt a warm body stir in response to his movement. He reached for that body to be certain of who it was.

Yes, Fin. Good. Thank God. At least they could be hungover together, because if he'd gotten this drunk, then surely the other man had as well.

"Mmm hfph hmnch?" came a murmured complaint at his curious touch.

"Shhh..." John tried to quiet him. "Can't drunk. Too talk."

Wait. He knew that came out wrong. Oh well. Didn't matter.

Fuck, his head. What the _hell_ had they done, anyway? John didn't know if he wanted to remember. He slipped his arm around Fin's thick waist and snuggled in closer against him. He wanted to shut out everything except this familiar, reassuring presence for at least a few more hours.

This bed was comfy, at least. Very comfy, in a way that was notably different from the bed John was used to sleeping in. A hotel bed? Yes, John remembered that much. They were staying at a hotel. They were here for a convention. A police convention in...Las Vegas? Right, that was it. John might be retired now, but tagging along as Fin's guest gave him an excuse to have some real fun in the wicked city—without having to worry about being suspended for lewd behavior, as had happened to his old partner Stan and their coworker Beau years ago.

Stan and Beau sure got into trouble that time. _And speaking of trouble, someone must have thrown one hell of a party..._ Pity he couldn't remember any of it. But maybe that was a good thing.

Closing his eyes and sinking into the soft mountain of pillows, John found his head quieted slightly. It was enough to allow him to get close to falling back to sleep, after a few minutes... Until someone came pounding on their door. He winced as each knock felt like a blow to his skull.

"Who the _fuck_ is it?" he shouted before checking himself.

A meek voice replied through the door, "Uh...room service?"

"Room service? We didn't order anyth—" John cut himself off. For all he knew, they _had_ ordered something before passing out. Left one of those breakfast cards on the door or whatever, who knew? No point taking out his hangover on an innocent hotel employee.

With a weary groan, he disentangled himself from Fin, who cursed under his breath at the disruption. "Just a minute," John called, wincing and looking for some clothes to throw on as he also checked that Fin was covered with blankets. There was a shirt on the floor, a pair of pants tossed over the bedside lamp...fuck it. He didn't have time to put together a full wardrobe. He went for the closet to grab a big plush hotel robe and tie it hastily around his waist. That would have to do.

He stumbled to the door and opened it, hoping they'd at least ordered something hearty to help with this hangover.

 _Maybe drunk-me was looking out for hungover-me_ , he thought with optimism.

"Hearty" didn't quite seem the word for it, when he took in the grand display on the cart before him. "Good morning, sir," the room service waiter said with a nervous smile. "Where may I set up your breakfast?"

"Uh...wherever there's space, I suppose." John stepped back as the man wheeled in a cart laden with pastries and muffins, orange juice, coffee, two dome-covered dishes, an extravagant bouquet of lilies and roses... and a bottle of champagne? "Are you sure you have the right room?" John had to ask. _Drunk-me must have been famished, and weirdly romantic._

"Yes, sir. Room 1740. You requested it last night, to be served at noon. The full honeymoon breakfast."

 _Honeymoon?_ John thought, smirking to himself. _Drunk-me also had a sense of humor, I see._

The man lifted the silver domes off the plates to reveal a ginormous stack of pancakes on one, and an overstuffed omelet on the other. "I hope you have everything you need, sir? Shall I open the champagne for you?"

"No, I think I can handle that when we're ready." Some hair of the dog might not be the worst thing in the world for this hangover, but John wanted to get some food in his system first.

"Very well. If you could just sign here, please."

John went to sign the receipt, purposefully _not_ looking at how much this breakfast was costing them but throwing a generous tip on the bill regardless.

It was then, as he handed the pen back to the waiter, that he finally noticed the silver and black band on his ring finger.

_Oh. SHIT. What the FUCK did drunk-me do last night?_

"Thank you, sir. Please enjoy, and congratulations on your nuptials from all of us at Caesars." The man rushed out, but John barely noticed him depart. He slumped down on the edge of the bed, staring at his hand. His head was buzzing again, but a sense of dread and panic had replaced his hangover.

"Fin," he said.

"Mmph."

" _FIN_ ," he repeated, much more insistent this time. "Wake up."

"Fuck you," Fin finally managed, tossing a pillow in his direction.

"Wake _up._ I have to show you something. _Now_."

A weary sigh and more curses were his answer, as Fin crept out from under the blankets. "This better be fucking good, man."

"Look at this and tell me what you think!" John stuck out his hand in the other man's face.

Fin blinked, scratched his jaw, and shrugged. "Uh huh. And? Yesterday you said you liked it all right. And it was one of the only styles they had in sizes to fit both of us at the last minute like that."

John noticed the matching band on Fin's finger. "You actally  _remember_  yesterday?"

"'Course I do." Fin got up and inspected the breakfast offerings, rubbing his bare stomach. He grabbed a cherry danish and brought it over to the bed, munching contentedly on it while John stared at him in complete bewilderment. "You were on a winning streak at the roulette table when I found you, after my meetings finished up yesterday. Said if you broke five grand you'd finally break down and marry me." Fin took a bite, chewed and swallowed, then gave John a wink. "Ended up winning six big ones on an all-or-nothing bet and I dragged your ass out of there before you changed your mind."

"You brute. Taking advantage of me in an inebriated state like that."

"Don't blame the booze, Munch. You didn't start drinking hard until _after_ the wedding."

John shook his head. He wished he could remember anything, but all of yesterday was nothing but a blur in his mind. A blur of booze, bells...

Bells. Wedding bells, or so it now seemed. "I still don't believe it," he insisted.

"Don't worry. Pretty sure Rollins got the whole thing on video. Might be up on YouTube already. Want me to check?"

"NO!" John groaned and fell back onto the bed, rubbing his face with his hands. "This is a nightmare."

"Thanks. Nice to know after all these years, that's how you feel about being stuck with me."

"It's not that!" John protested, cursing his muddled brain and sharp tongue. "I'm sorry. You know I love you. I just..." He paused. How could he explain himself?

He pushed himself back up and yanked the cherry danish out of Fin's hand. He took that hand and sat in silence, taking a better look at the ring, how it fit on his love's hand. _Their_ hands, together. Seeing the matching bands filled him with a sense of warmth and rightness, the white gold with a band of onyx stone through the center. Solid and strong, like the two of them.

And yet...

"Fin, you know my history with wedded bliss—or rather, the lack thereof when it comes to the ‘bliss' part of the equation. I guess in the back of my mind, I've worried that getting married might somehow mess up what we have."

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say."

"Maybe. No, you're right, it's stupid," John agreed.

"So stop sulking and let's eat up, before all this food gets cold."

"I wish I'd been smart enough to add a bottle of aspirin to this order."

"Think I got some in my bag," Fin said. "But you should eat something first so it won't upset your stomach."

"Yes, mother."

"I sure as hell ain't your momma." Fin leaned in to place a kiss on John's temple. "But I am your husband now, and that means I can nag your bony ass whenever I feel like it."

"See? It's already started," John whined. "This is why I swore I'd never get married again." He filled a mug with coffee from the pot, then turned a sly grin toward Fin's scowl and kissed it away. "Then again, calling _you_ my husband has a nice ring to it."

Fin rolled his eyes and helped himself to one of the juices. "I still can't believe you don't remember _anything_."

"Selective amnesia. We really did this, legal and everything?"

Fin nodded. "Paperwork's all here...somewhere...we did kind of make a mess of this place celebrating."

"I regret not remembering _that_ more than anything," John sighed.

"After breakfast, I think I can refresh your memory of the wedding night easy enough."

"Yes, please." John decided to attack the pancakes first, adding a heavy pour of maple syrup for fortification and extra strength. Even if he couldn't remember the wedding, he was absolutely going to enjoy the rest of their honeymoon.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope it's okay this is a slight spin on the prompt (Fin remembered what happened even if John didn't), as that's how the story ended up working out. Happy holidays! xxo


End file.
